


The Study of Molly Hooper

by sleep_deprived_sociopath



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 19:37:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleep_deprived_sociopath/pseuds/sleep_deprived_sociopath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper. 25. Pathologist at St. Bart's Hospital.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	The Study of Molly Hooper

**Author's Note:**

> Molly has always been an adored character of mine and one of the most underrated of all. My interest in her has been spiked and I just needed to vent my image of her. Hope you like it.

 

 

“Oh, for God’s sake, Sherlock! Are those my blood samples!? You have to stop that! Those were for an actual pathology case! For my own work, you know? A work that I most appreciate, thank you very much. I’m cross with you, I swear!”- Molly complained, frustrated, holding the pipettes on her hand.

“It’s not the first time you do this. You have to STOP doing this sort of nasty thing, you hear me? Sherlock?”- Molly took attention to the man sit on the other side of the table. Sherlock remained quiet and motionless.

”Are you even listening to me? Sherlock?”- She approached the man and laid a hand on his shoulder.

Sherlock was taken by surprise and his quick turn made Molly drop the glass pipettes on the floor, which was the same as to say he just accidently ruined her last two hours of work. Molly took a gasp. Fury and pain started to fill her veins as she understood the consequence of the mess laid before her feet. Sherlock followed her eyes and started opening his mouth for an apology.

  
“DON’T YOU EVEN TRY OPENING THAT MOUTH, SIR! “- Sherlock closed his mouth, somewhat shocked by the infuriated scream.

”GOD, WHY? Why must this happen always to me? I’m done. That’s it. This is officially THE LAST STRAW!”- Molly turned furiously and started taking the white robe while exiting the lab, stomping her feet all the way down the stars of the hospital to the staff restroom.

She could not take it anymore. She was done! The day before it had been the body of a gentleman whose family was going to identify. They walked on him being brutally choked with a scarf for the sole purpose of case-verification to Mr-Know-it-All… Last week, he took the report she was going to present to the hospital board. She has had it all! She was done.

  
She cleared her closet, slipped into her coat and turned, decided to go back home, swallow in ice-cream and the latest episode of Call the Midwife. A tall figure interrupted her swift exit.

  
“Sherlock, could you please step aside? I REALLY want to go home.”- She took another step, but the man remained unmoved. ”Sherlock?”- she said, in a false calm voice, looking at Sherlock straight in his eyes- those beautiful eyes, on which colour she could never put her finger on. She quickly relaxed and realized she had to stop with this raging nonsense. It was making it hard for everyone.

  
How long had it been? Two, three years since she met him? She figured she would be able to put up with his nature already, but the man never ceased to amaze her on the extents of his lack of consideration. Not that it was his fault, completely. It was that brain of his that made all of these problems come to life. Not his fault. Well… Molly sighed.

  
“I’m sorry, Molly.”- Sherlock said. And he looked quite honest about it, something she could say and testify was not usual. There was a John Watson’s finger on this action. Thank God for that man!

“I mean, I’m sorry for making you drop the pipettes, about the rest of the shouting I’m not quite sure if I follow the reason.” Oh, nevermind.

  
“What? Oh, don’t mind it! I apologize for bursting like that before. I had no excuse. I just need to breathe a little and take some time. Tomorrow I’ll be alright. No worries.”- She faked a smile and brushed matter with her hand.

“I must really get home, though. May I pass?” She asked, moving towards the exit as Sherlock moved aside.

  
“Goodnight, Sherlock Holmes.”- Molly whispered, considering herself out of hearing radar, as she opened the exit door.

  
“Goodnight, Molly Hooper.”- Sherlock said as the door closed behind her.

 

* * *

 

Walking the streets of London was always something mesmerizing for Molly. Nothing was ever the same.

The people, the air, it seemed as if everything was always in constant movement.

Well, the speed never changed.

Always running, always trying to catch a cab at the last minute, late for work, for the movies, to meet someone.

Molly wished she could blend as easily as everyone did in this city. But it had been some rough 6 years and she still felt like the 19 year old country girl that came to the big city for the first time. She always took the time to walk carefully and absorb every drop of life London had to offer from her apartment to the hospital.

She particularly enjoyed the cold nights as the one present, the lights gently fading from the sky, every breath as smoke (even though Molly never had put a lit cigarette between her lips).

On nights like these, people gave the impression of walking slower, as if the cold deliberately relaxed the clocks on their wrists and how fast their legs could walk.

Molly called this “updating human life”.

She liked to look at people and see who they were. Not like Sherlock, but somewhat the same thing, not to brag.

Molly liked to picture what a normal human being is, how they function. Part of it made her become a pathologist.

But the human mind fascinated her more than anything, and often she found herself lost in the narrow streets because she would be unconsciously following someone.

She did this ever since she was a child. She never had many friends, never was the “soul of the party”. She was an introvert, and she liked things quiet and simple.

But she loved people. Where she was living made the perfect environment for her wanderings.

Well, but things were never the same after she met that curly-haired devil by the name of Sherlock Holmes.


End file.
